Motivation
by bellabug
Summary: Just a little GSR oneshot. Warning: Mild Adult Themes. DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING. SHOCKING, I KNOW...


**A/N: Hello, all! I realise that I should, by rights, be posting a long-overdue update to Thieves and Secrets and not this little oneshot, but I have my reasons. It is finals time in my part of the world, and I have exams - many many exams - that I am meant to be studying for. Given that I would really like to pass them all, earn my degree, and move on to pretending to be a productive member of society, I decided to put my fanfic-ing on the backburner until they were all just an unpleasant memory to be dealt with in conjunction with large quantities of alcohol. Alas my muse had other ideas. A series of one-shots, quite disparate in content and mood, have been haunting me. I thought that it was probably easier to write them out now, than during the essay portion of my 'Financial Markets' exam next week.**

**Nothing has been beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.**

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He could sense her presence the moment she appeared in his doorway, but he didn't look up. She knew he knew she was there. She could see it in the way the tension eased in his frame, and in the softening of the lines around his eyes, even as they remained stubbornly fixed on the budget review papers that littered his desk. Neither wanted to be the first to break, the one to lose their little game and speak.

There was a time not so long ago that there really was no contest. A couple of minutes of silence and she would give in. The first time that she emerged the victor, he had asked her what had changed. "I always was a quick study", was her only reply.

Without lifting his head from the paperwork before him, he decided to end the stalemate. "Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to come inside?"

Smiling to herself, she stood her ground. "Well, that depends, boss. What exactly did you call me in here to talk about?"

Abandoning all pretence, he downed his pen and shed his glasses, slowly making his way around to the other side of the desk. "Well, CSI Sidle, I was hoping that you could help me with a little problem I am having."

As she stepped over the threshold and further into his office, he quickly moved towards the door, closing and locking it behind her. Raising an eyebrow, she perched on the edge of his desk and waited.

"You see, it is now one o'clock in the morning and we still have no cases. None. It's as though all the criminals in Vegas decided to go to bed early tonight. Now, normally a dip in the crime rate might be considered a good thing, but right now, tonight, in this office, in this head of mine, it is causing a real problem."

"So, wait a minute, you called me in her to complain that nobody has been raped, beaten, robbed or killed yet tonight? How very civic-minded of you."

"Not exactly. As I was saying, in our particular field of work, a slow shift is usually a good thing, but after sitting here for a little over two hours staring a file after file of nuisance paperwork, my mind is starting to wander, and lines are starting to blur."

Slowly he began to advance on her, feeling with every step the tension in the air around them rise. Finally, when he stood less that two feet away, close enough to hear the hitch in her breathing and see the flush begin to make its way across her chest, he stopped.

Swallowing, and trying desperately to decide if he was standing too close or not close enough, she realised that it must be her turn to speak.

"Lines? What… what lines?"

Unable to help the grin that spread across his face when it was clear to him the effect he was having on her, he took a moment to answer.

"Well, you see, normally at work, we work. We have these little slips of paper called assignments that get handed out at the beginning of shift which tell us where to go, and what we will be doing when we get there. Fascinating stuff, usually. But tonight, because everyone seems to be behaving themselves, abiding by the law and such, we don't have any assignments, just paperwork. Not so fascinating." He took another step forward, until he was close enough to feel the heat emanating from her skin in waves. Dropping his voice to a near-whisper, he continued. "My mind keeps wandering, Sara, to all of the much more fascinating things I could be doing if we were at home right now. Things I don't usually allow myself to think about within the confines of this building. Things like this". Lifting a hand from their resting place at his side, he brushed a stray hair from her face. "And this." Leaning down, he brushed his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck. "And this." Closing what little distance remained between them, he claimed her mouth with his own in a fiery kiss.

Eventually, when the need for oxygen overcame his need for her, he pulled away. Stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest, he cleared hist throat and said with an air of false professionalism, "So, you see my problem."

Pulling herself together, she decided that two could play at his game and drew her tongue slowly across her lower lip, choosing to wait until she had his complete and undivided attention before replying.

"Not really."

"What do you mean, 'not really'?"

"I mean, I don't exactly see the problem."

With an exasperated sigh, he dropped his arms to his sides and took a half-step forward for emphasis, unwittingly putting himself back within reach of the woman before him.

"Sara, the problem is that we are NOT at home, and in here, in this lab and in this office, you are my employee, and nothing more. Touching you, kissing you, tasting you… It's not exactly appropriate behaviour for the workplace."

Swallowing her grin, she donned her most serious expression and said, "I'm not so sure about that."

Shaking his head, he looked her in the eye and did his best to match her tone. "Really? Do explain your reasoning?"

Abruptly, she reached forward and pulled him toward her, so that there was not a breath of air left between them. Kissing her way along his jaw and up to nibble on his ear, she whispered playfully, "Such behaviour could be quite productive. After all, I can't think of better motivation to keep you desk clear of overdue paperwork, fascinating or not."

END


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